


Family Dinner

by shieldivarius



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2013 [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Fluff, Prompt: Family Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/shieldivarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda invites Natasha to have dinner on the Bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Dinner

It had been agreed at some point that the inhabitants of the Bus were going to have Christmas dinner together—or at least a meal for the holidays, since FitzSimmons both had families who expected them home on the actual holiday in question. It was even a good idea, in theory. They spent enough time together and there was certainly a familial feel amongst them, and Ward, Coulson and Skye didn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with, as far as Melinda knew. 

It all left Melinda feeling as though she was the only one who wasn’t thrilled by the idea of staying with the Bus and the team for those couple of days longer, when they’d all received permission to take leave over the holidays. FitzSimmons’ parents didn’t expect them home any sooner than after the dinner, because neither scientist had told them when exactly, they would be headed home for the holidays—if at all.

Melinda had told Natasha about the leave as soon as she’d learned about it, eager to do anything possible to prevent her partner from taking on any jobs over the holidays so they could actually spend some time together. Natasha, being assigned to the Avengers, had a certain amount of leeway when it came to being available for, and turning down, missions that weren’t classified as the sort of world-in-crisis situations that required a strike force like the Avengers.

Melinda could have said no to coming to the dinner. She could have, and then she could have spent those extra days with Natasha. She hadn’t said no.

Instead, she had the phone in her hand now to dial her partner and invite her to her team’s holiday dinner. That didn’t call for the feeling of dread tight in her gut in the least. Well, unless Natasha had already planned something for them which conflicted with the dinner. And she liked planning things, so it was entirely possible.

“ _Romanoff_ ,” Natasha greeted, answering on the second ring. Melinda could hear raucous men’s laughter in the background of the call.

“It’s me. Do you have a minute?”

“ _Of course._ ” The ambient noise wherever Natasha was grew quieter before fading out completely. “ _What is it?_ ”

“I’m not going to be home when I said I would,” Melinda started. 

“ _I thought your team was being given downtime for the holiday?_ ” Natasha asked before she could continue. She sounded concerned.

“It’s nothing like that,” Melinda assured her. “They decided they wanted to have a team holiday dinner. We’re out at the airfield in Newark. I thought, since it hedges on the time I was supposed to be off, that you might want to come out to it instead.”

Natasha was quiet on the other end long enough that Melinda started having second thoughts. Her returning to the field hadn’t been a strain on their relationship, exactly, but it had changed things with her base becoming mobile while Natasha was still, for the most part, working out of one place. It didn’t help that they’d spent a lot of time apart lately; enough that even hearing Natasha’s voice was uplifting with the very little time they had to talk.

“ _Have you cleared this with—_ ”

“He’ll be fine with it.”

“ _’Linda,_ ” Natasha said, and now her voice was chiding. “ _They’re not going to want a stranger encroaching on their team-bonding, festive dinner._ ”

She did have a point, and no one had mentioned bringing significant others, and she would be outing their relationship in a work environment, but no one had explicitly said no to having partners there, either. 

“If I clear it with them, will you come?”

“ _If you’re sure you want me there._ ”

“I’m sure. I’ll talk to you in a day or so?” Melinda asked, looking out the window at the tarmac beyond the plane. They’d only landed a couple of hours prior and the others were looking into hotel rooms. It wasn’t a long drive into Manhattan from here. 

Except they all wanted to go out drinking, and Melinda had been told she was being dragged along.

“ _Alright,_ ” Natasha said. The phone went dead, and Melinda had the sense Natasha might be a little annoyed with her. From what she’d gathered of Natasha though—and this was their first holiday season since getting together—her partner understood the holidays. She just didn’t have much desire to celebrate them. 

For the most part, Melinda felt the same way, but this was the first time she’d been back in the field in a while, and being around FitzSimmons—who decidedly had not shied away from embracing the holidays and the gaudy decorations that came with them—had inspired in her at least an inkling of desire to explore the season more deeply.

_That_ was why she’d invited Natasha to the dinner. She was sure Avengers Tower, with Tony Stark owning it, was decked out in gaudy and bright Christmas cheer. Natasha wouldn’t have any lack of decorations. But she didn’t think Natasha was going to get quite the same _family_ experience from spending time with her team over the holidays.

And she missed her.

Melinda closed up the Bus and activated the security systems, then left to find her team.

 

Coulson’s brilliant smile when Melinda had managed to suck up her pride (with the help of rye) and ask about Natasha crashing dinner hadn’t been the expected reaction. She’d thought she would have to convince him, because she was fairly certain Natasha hadn’t been read in on his still being alive, and a furious, betrayed Avenger would have put a damper on their dinner (and Melinda had only thought of the latter after getting off of the phone with Natasha, or she would have rethought the whole thing). 

“It sounds like a good idea to me,” he said, using the same low, sidebar tone that she’d used to broach the conversation, which she appreciated because it meant the team was less likely to overhear.

Still, Ward glanced back and forth between them while FitzSimmons and Skye were oblivious, trying to engineer a nacho to balance on the end of a straw, with the help of a napkin and the little plastic sword from Fitz’s drink.

“I haven’t seen her since before New York. Not in person, anyway.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Melinda muttered.

“It’ll go fine. And, May.”

Melinda had started turning back, and at Coulson’s prompt raised her eyebrows. “If you don’t want—”

“Thank you,” she said, crispness to her voice. “I’ll leave it up to her.”

He nodded.

 

Natasha had a bottle of wine in hand when she arrived at the airfield, exactly fifteen minutes before Melinda had told her that they were planning to start drinking and eating hors d’oeuvres before dinner. 

Out of sight of anyone at the front gate, because it was three days to Christmas and staff was light, they shared a quick kiss in greeting.

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Melinda said, taking the wine and matching Natasha’s step through the offices and control area of the field. The heels of her partner’s boots clicked against the tiles, loud and echoing next to the dull thumps of Melinda’s flat rubber soles. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow and gave her a fond, exasperated smile. 

“I know,” Melinda said. “Custom.”

“It’s good for this weather. A full-bodied, heavy red.”

“You do realize we’re having Chinese.” Melinda held the outside door for her, and this time the smile Natasha gave her was sly.

“We can save it. Have it later.”

The plane loomed ahead of them and Natasha appraised it, her countenance impressed. “6-man team, you said?” 

“Trapped together in a capsule at 30 000 feet, 90% of the time.”

Natasha stopped walking, touched Melinda’s elbow and used to touch to guide her so they were facing. She leaned in and their lips met again. Longer this time, their lips explored one another, relearning each other, Natasha’s soft and full and warm against hers.

“You sound thrilled,” Natasha said when they parted. 

“It’s not so bad. Quiet up in the cockpit.”

Natasha made a soft humming sound in her throat. “So you’re saying this dinner is going to be the opposite.”

 

“You brought company?” Ward asked when they walked in. He frowned at Natasha like he was trying to place her and couldn’t quite. 

“Is that a problem?” Melinda asked, taking both her coat and Natasha’s and hanging them up in the closet near her bunk. 

“She’s… S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he asked. Melinda let the corner of her mouth turn up, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cupboard. Natasha had taken a seat on the end of a couch and was talking in a low voice to Coulson, her eyes flashing. The other three lurked around the bar, watching the redheaded newcomer and clearly awaiting an introduction.

“You don’t recognize her? She’ll be thrilled.”

“Should I?” he asked, looking at Natasha again, eyes narrowed. Natasha glanced up long enough to raise an eyebrow at them for the scrutiny before turning back to her conversation with Coulson.

Ward wore a furrowed brow, wracking his brain, and Melinda shook her head. “I’ll introduce you,” she said, and crossed the room, interrupting Natasha and Coulson by touching a hand to Natasha’s shoulder. 

The introductions elicited an ‘oooh’ from Fitz, an excited gasp from Simmons, grunted acknowledgement from Ward and polite confusion from Skye, right up until the term ‘Avenger’ was dropped. 

“You could have invited _all_ of the Avengers, if you were going to invite one,” Skye said to Melinda, halfway through the meal.

Natasha, coming back from the bar with two glasses of wine in hand, passed one to Melinda. “The Hulk wouldn’t have fit in the plane,” she said, deadpan, having overheard.

“Okay, but I bet Captain America would’ve enjoyed our little Christmas feast,” Skye said.

“No turkey. He’s a traditionalist. Besides, Coulson would’ve stammered all night and we’d all be overdosing on second hand embarrassment.” It was blunter than Natasha usually was, and Coulson glared at her. She raised her eyebrows in challenge, staring across the room at him. 

“You could invite us to Avengers Tower,” Skye pushed, not noticing the exchange.

Natasha smiled at that, staring down into her wine glass.

“The residence levels are authorized personnel only,” Melinda answered. “There’s more of that sesame chicken,” she added, to Natasha. Natasha took the excuse and slipped off, back to where the food was set up on the bar.

“Leave her alone,” Melinda warned. “She’s here as my guest, not to be badgered by questions about the Avengers.”

Skye glared at her. “Come on, she’s gotta expect it. And it’s _so cool_.” She heaved a sigh when Melinda only stared at her. “Fine. I’ll leave her alone,” she muttered, slouching off to a couch and dropping down beside Ward.

Melinda shook her head, catching Natasha’s eye as her partner headed back over and nodding back toward the cockpit. The rest of them probably watched them go, but since they weren’t trying to be discreet about it, Melinda didn’t care.

“They still aren’t as exhausting as a blustery Thor,” Natasha said, but she’d closed her eyes and rested her head back against the headrest of the co-pilot’s seat as soon as they got into the cockpit. “Or Stark after being up for 48 hours.”

Melinda laughed, picking up a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks. “You’re a legend, they’re behaving.”

Natasha groaned. “That was behaving?”

“About as well as you were, firing those comments at Coulson.”

Natasha rolled her head to the side so she was facing Melinda. “He had it coming,” she said, placing her plate on the floor and picking up her wine. 

“Come here,” Melinda said, her arms open. Natasha raised an eyebrow, and Melinda opened her arms, twitching her fingers a little. “Come on.”

Natasha laughed, and it took a bit of shifting around and adjusting the distance the seat was from the console, but she managed to sit on Melinda’s lap, and wrapped her arms around her neck. Melinda held her firmly by the waist. Natasha leaned her forehead against Melinda’s.

“Someone’s going to walk in,” Natasha murmured after a moment. 

Melinda hummed. “I usually have the space to myself.”

“Your R &D people are too curious, and they haven’t figured it out yet. It’ll be one of them. And I pissed Coulson off too much for him to stop them.”

Melinda pressed a kiss against Natasha’s lips. “Were you analyzing my people instead of enjoying yourself?”

“Making sure you’re safe out here.” Natasha said, returning the kiss. 

Without a knock, the door opened, and Melinda heard a horrified gasp, followed by a loud, shrieked, “Sorry!” from Simmons before it slammed shut again.

Natasha shook against her in laughter, pulling back far enough to wipe at a tear that trickled from her eye. “I told you.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://shieldivarius.tumblr.com


End file.
